


Rumpelfaeskin

by RhineGold



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cages, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fairies, Grimdark, Intersex, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29706570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: Rumpelstiltskin is turned into a fairy as punishment for all of his crimes. Horrible things will happen to him.
Relationships: Jiminy Cricket | Archie Hopper/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Rumpelstiltskin and the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Rumpelstiltskin is turned into a fairy as punishment for all of his crimes. Horrible things happen to him. 
> 
> Well… nothing horrible happens in this part, fortunately. The others will be warned appropriately.

~*~

He grit his teeth, trying not to cry out, as he was dumped unceremoniously on the floor. The distance was far more considerable now, and he rolled across the cobblestones, smearing into the dust and dirt caking them, before coming to a stop in a tuft of straw. 

He lay there, shivering against the cold floor as the door slid shut, sealing him in darkness. The last effects of the magic quaked through him, making him feel like he had been electrocuted. His nails looked the same, pointed and sharper than a mortal man’s, though he was sure they were no longer sufficient to easily break skin. His skin remained golden and shimmery, not quite scaly but more textured to be called smooth. But the Blue Fairy’s magic had done its job and quite well at that - a years supply of fairy dust, gone in one fell swoop. There would be no more wishes this year, for the good little boys and girls found pleasing enough for the fairies' whims, but it had been deemed worth it to rid their midst of such a monster. 

The Dark One was no more.

His magic had been stolen - taken, clawed out of him and twisted into something else entirely. The dark magic was gone, and all that remained was the transmuted remains, fragments reshaped into the thing he detested the most - fairy magic. 

He could feel it, in him, on him, all around him. And his back… 

He could not see them, not before from the angle, not now for the lack of light, but he could feel them. Stretched his shoulders, feeling the muscles on his back shift and ripple, felt them move with the motion, digging into the straw. He could _feel_ the straw through them, a disconcerting experience. Finally, painfully using muscles new and untried and non-instinctual, he managed one full, wide-spread beat of his new wings. 

The magic had turned him into that which he most hated, and that which he most feared. The only kind of magic they could control. They had done the deed and then locked him into the dusty old wood bin until they could decide what to do with him. The tiny golden fairy that had been formed of Rumpelstiltskin curled into the straw, wrapping his arms around his torso, and tried not to cry. 

~*~

He had fallen into a fitful sleep, his dreams tormented by the burn of fairy dust and the sound of Baelfire’s screams in his ears, when he was ripped from these terrors by the far more tangible one of a hand closing over his ankle.

Unable to stop the sharp bark of surprise that erupted from him, he flushed when it came out as more of a squeak. The man who’d shoved him in hauled him out now, grasping first one ankle and then his wrist. The change in his statue was more perfectly illustrated now and completely alarming - the man holding him was a giant now, nearly four feet over his head. His body now had the height of perhaps a small human child, but the proportions were too slender, too delicate, to ever be confused for one. 

As he was yanked to his feet, he became all-too-aware of the sharp pain in his right leg. The limb bore the scars he had as a mortal man, unable to support him now that his magic was gone. He collapsed forward, clawing at the man’s wrist in a movement more about support than freedom, but this didn’t stop the guard from backhanding him roughly, sending him skittering on his back a few paces away. 

A rough pile of cloth landed on his chest and the man growled at him to get dressed. It appeared to be a rough tunic of some kind, simple spun cloth knotted at the shoulders with a generously open back to make room for the wings. He had barely pulled the fabric into place when a hand closed around his waist, lifting him with almost comical ease. He bit back a shriek, clutching at the hand again, squirming. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“Your sentencing,” The guard snapped, tucking him half under his arm in a position more suited to a roll of papers than a living creature. He struggled briefly, but this made his wings slap against the man’s arm and side, which felt as though he were being slapped across the face again somehow. 

After what felt like an eternity, they emerged from the bowels of the partially-ruined castle, moving towards the throne room at a fair clip now. 

Finally, the guard strode through the open doors, unceremoniously dumping him on the floor. He lay there on his hands and knees, staring at the intricately-inlaid stone tile beneath him, unable to bring himself to look at those gathered on the dais before him. He could see the hem of a white gown and a pair of brown leather boots. Further away, the slippers of the Blue Fairy and beyond that, a pair boots decisively alien to these lands. So Emma was here too. 

“Rumpelstiltskin,” Prince Charming began, and he grit his teeth against the sound, “You have been brought here today to face your punishment, for your public sentencing in response to your crimes." 

There was a rustling of paper, and a lighter, softer voice spoke, one of the dwarves, though he could not be bothered to remember which was which. "Rumpelstiltskin, former Dark One, imp and magician, you have been found guilty of the crime of conspiring with the Evil Queen, Regina, to destroy this land and all the inhabitants thereof. To wit, you did, in fact, create and aid in the enactment of a Curse that laid waste to these fair lands and did thereby imprison and cause irrevocable harm to the inhabitants. The sentence for such crimes would normally be death." 

He paused to let this sink in, and several people took up murmuring on every side of him, giving him a sinking glimpse into just how many people had turned up for this travesty. He could not bring himself to look up, focusing instead on his fingernails, trying to discern the differences from his previous form. His nails were thinner, still rounded into points, though these points seemed softer, blunter. He was reminded of graphite pencils suddenly, the kind he would use to note wood before cutting the new frames for pieces of art in his shop. He missed his shop, missed Storybrooke, missed Gold. Missed those opportunities to do everything he had worked so much of his life for. 

The dwarf cleared his throat, continuing then, "However, in light of your cooperation with members of this committee, it has been mercifully decided," 

He laughed at that, unable to stop the shrill sound from bubbling up in a throat that still felt too thin, too raw. 

After an uncomfortable pause, the voice continued, ”…Mercifully decided to remand your sentence to that of… magical containment, and of transmutation of your own magic to something that can be controlled and protected against.“ 

The papers rustled again and the floor ceded to a new speaker. He tensed further, and his nails, blunt or no, grit into the stone tiles as she began. 

"Fairy magic is not like other magic,” The Blue Fairy began. He did not need to look up to see her simpering, falsely concerned expression, or the way she held her wand, as though concerned those gathered would suddenly turn on her and snatch it. He rather hoped they would. “Without considerable age and ability, a fairy is unable to tap into the magic that surrounds them without the use of a wand, or fairy dust. Therefore, it has been the decision of this council to render you into this form,”

“I’m aware of that,” He spat then, interrupting her, managing to make his softer, higher voice carry throughout the room, “Seeing as you’ve already done it.”

“Rumpelstiltskin, you’re not permitted to speak in this hearing,” Charming snapped coldly. 

“Very kind of you, David,” He replied acidly, fighting the urge to flinch as the man’s boots suddenly surged closer to him, reminding him of the vast difference in their sizes now. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Emma’s voice interrupted then, and the boots retreated to their original position. “Can we just get on with this?” She snapped, sounding cross. He wondered who she was angry with. Hope surged in him as he considered perhaps Emma was a potential ally again. Surely she would see the madness, the injustice in this? But his hope was dashed as she continued, “Tell him about the sentencing already.”

At least he was not imagining the annoyance in the Blue Fairy’s tone as she picked up her thread of speech. “The initial plan was to carry you back to the Fairy Collective, where you could be monitored by those of us committed to the causes of Good. However, at the intercession of Princess Emma, it has been determined that a different chain of custody might yield better results with less risk.”

He did look up then, meeting Emma Swan’s gaze, hope making his chest ache. The alien-feeling wings fluttered on his back, rippling and trembling with muscle movements he still did not understand. She met his gaze, mouth drawn down into a frown, expression sympathetic, but not overly so. 

“And so you shall be remanded to the custody of the Conscious Jiminy Cricket, until such time as your rehabilitation can be assessed and determined." 

His heart sank again. Not Emma, then. Archie. Well… Surely Archie could not be as bad as all that, he reasoned? The man stood now, off to the side of the podium, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. Strange he had not returned to insecticidal form on the return, but perhaps he had taken a liking to being a man again, he thought derisively. 

His thoughts were interrupted as he was scooped off the floor again, by the same rough, mean-spirited guard. 

"The sentencing is concluded,” Snow White said serenely, speaking for the first time during the farce that was this kingdom’s justice. He supposed he should count himself lucky that there had been some sort of a trial this time - the last time he had run afoul of them they had simply locked him in a dungeon with no terms or plans for release. Rehabilitation, he thought bitterly, meeting Archie’s gaze as he was changed hands. The redhead held him more delicately than the guard, curling an arm underneath him, cradling him to his chest. His wings draped over his arm and he curled into himself, hating the way this pressed him into Archie’s chest. Still, he was grateful for the way this allowed him to hide his face from those gathered as they strode from the room. 

Looking past Archie’s shoulder, the last thing he saw was Emma’s face, still bent into a frown, before the doors closed behind them. The sound of the heavy wooden slabs settling into place sounded final, absolute. He closed his eyes, burrowing tighter against the fabric against his face, feeling miserable, small, and lost. 

~*~

Archie’s home appeared very well-to-do, which he supposed made sense, considering his connections to the fairies and the royal family. A two-story, pale brick building with large windows and a small yard, rare enough in the cobblestone streets of the city. He tried not to notice the bars set on the windows already, too closely spaced for even a creature as small as he now was to pass. 

He was not as small as some fairies appeared to be, he knew. Probably closer to two feet tall, some bastardization of the normal process. Fairies were meant to be formed when scattered bits of dust fell into flowers under the light of a full moon, not made of magic and vengeance and the mutation of something nominally dark into something supposedly light. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he was really not a fairy at all, more like some kind of humanoid dragonfly, a thought that did not give as much comfort as he’d hoped. 

Archie spoke for the first time as he shifted him higher in his arms, until he clutched at the man’s shoulder, sitting up and twisting like a child against him. He could feel his palm, broad and warm against his lower back, just brushing the base of his lower wings. “So this is home,” He said awkwardly, unlocking the door with one of the keys on his belt. “It’s not much but it’s nicer than a coal bin, I’m sure." 

"I think it was a wood bin,” He offered absently, looking around the room. Archie still favored simple but rich décor, and the place looked comfortable enough. 

“For now you’ll be upstairs,” He said, ignoring the aside. “There’s ah… There’s a place made up for you.” The implication did not sound as soothing as he had perhaps intended it to, and as they reached the top of the stairs, he saw why. 

“Oh, no, please…” He murmured, clenching his small fists on the fabric of Archie’s jerkin. “That’s really not necessary…”

“I’m afraid it’s part of the deal,” He answered, pulling him bodily away from his chest, turning him, hands under his arms, so they were face-to-face. “At least at first, for a little while.” He did look appropriately sympathetic, but he could not possibly understand what he was proposing to do and the effect it would have on him.

Perhaps, though… the man had been a doctor… He tried again, squirming ineffectually against the hands, his wings beating arrhythmical and soon he would have to learn what to do with them, really, and he was not exaggerating the tremor in his voice as it tumbled out, “No, please, you don’t understand, I can’t… Please don’t…”

“I’m sorry, Rumpelstiltskin,” He said, and the words carried an air of finality that made his heart sink. 

Moving quickly, the redhead opened the door of the small golden cage, shoving him inside too fast to be gentle. Another key on his belt fastened the padlock, sealing his prisoner inside. 

He clutched at the bars briefly, feeling pathetic for doing so, using the leverage to keep off his aching leg. “I promise you, I’ll be no trouble,” He tried again, already feeling the slight bubble of panic inside his chest at the way the bars arched up, around him, over his head… 

“I’m sorry, Rumpelstiltskin, but this is the deal I made,” He snapped, sounding annoyed, taking the smaller creature aback at the vehemence in his tone. Seeing the effect it had, he immediately tried to sooth, running a hand through his own curls sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot of long days and nights, lately, planning all this. I didn’t mean to snap." 

”…I don’t want to be in a cage again,“ He said softly, sinking down to sit on the floor of the thing, hating the pitiable voice he couldn’t quite rationalize as his own.

"If you’re well-behaved, I promise you, I’ll recommend that portion of the agreement be removed as soon as possible,” Archie answered, sitting heavily in the armchair near the fire. 

It wasn’t a solution, not by a long shot, but it seemed to be all he was going to get. He curled over onto his side then, wings fluttering over his prone form. The room was warm, but he felt cold, wanted to shiver, and he tried not to look at the bars all around him. It wasn’t dark in here, he reminded himself savagely. It wasn’t so bad at all.

Archie gave him a long look and then reached for the bottle of alcohol waiting on the side-table. They didn’t speak for the rest of the night.

~*~

The next day or so passed, setting a routine. Archie slept in the bed across the room from the cage. In the mornings, he would wake up, bathe, and eat, before bringing Rumpelstiltskin some milk and bread. Then he would disappear for hours on end, and, once the sun had set, he would return home, spending most of his time downstairs. A second meal was brought up when he came upstairs, and while he ate, Archie would sit by the fire and read, nursing a glass of amber-coloured liquor. They spoke very little outside the immediately necessary. 

The cage had obviously been constructed for a large bird - a small bowl provided a constant source of water, a hole on the opposite end served to remove waste, and there was a hanging perch coming down from the center. He’d tried to practice flying up to it, but his results were mediocre at best. There was simply not the room to learn to use a whole new set of muscles in this small space.

On the third day, when Archie returned home, he came upstairs immediately, carrying an elaborately woven basket. Unlocking the door to the cage, he pulled the small creature out, setting him on the desktop beside the suspended prison. 

Rumpelstiltskin sat, for he had no other choice with his leg, curling his knees up to his chin so that the dirtying smock he’d been given in the castle covered more of his small form. 

The basket contained a mattress blankets, and a pillow, all scaled to his new size, made of a richly embroidered fabric. They were gold and scarlet, with hints of oranges and purples, all colours he had favored when given his freedom, made of a satiny material and obviously stuffed with feathers. He wondered if the luxury of them was some sort of cruel joke, meant to mock him, and he frowned at them. 

“Princess Abigail made these for you,” Archie said simply, shaking them out before placing them inside the cage against the side he had taken to sleeping on. “She learned how you were asked by Regina to kill her when we were on the Other Side, and she’s grateful that you chose to spare her life.”

He decided the gift was not terribly ostentatious after all - in fact, in that light, they were rather sweet. Realizing Archie wanted some kind of a response, he looked up then, “…It seemed the most expedient course of action at the time,” he offered. Dropping his gaze, he added softly, “…I didn’t want to hurt her." 

"She wants me to take some measurements so she can make you clothes,” He answered, a hint of derision in his voice. 

“…Will you thank her for me?” He asked, still feeling touched by the kindness of the gestures. “Or rather… Might I write her a letter?" 

It would be nice to cultivate an ally here, and she seemed willing to take the part. Perhaps the letter would help convince them of his ‘civilized nature’ and that he had been 'rehabilitated’ by being stripped of his dark magic. It was too soon to pin on such hopes, but a princess in his debt would not make a terrible keeper if one were required. 

Archie studied him, looking confused by the request, but he nodded finally. "Yes, I’m sure that could be arranged. Tomorrow. You go to sleep now, all right? We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow. I’ve been asked to fully document your transformation for the records, so I’ll be taking Abigail’s measurements then as well." 

He nodded absently, then started when the man reached for him, wrapping around his waist. "No, wait, please, just… Not just yet, please?” He pleaded, as Archie made to put him back into the cage again. 

The man paused for a moment, looking down at him. Rumpelstiltskin was twisted in his grasp, one hand pressed against the cage, holding himself away from it, the other clenched on Archie’s shirtsleeve. His golden wings beat once, twice, and then drooped nervously against his shoulders. Finally, Archie’s tongue stole out, moistening his lips, and he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. You’ll be out for plenty of time tomorrow. Good night.”

He went downstairs then and remained for the rest of the night, apparently forgetting to bring him his dinner. 

Rumpelstiltskin considered the blankets and finally removed his soiled garment, tossing it with more force than was necessary across the cage before curling down into the princess’ gift. The blankets were soft and smooth, comforting around his skin as he burrowed into them. He hated Archie Hopper and everything else in his life.

~*~


	2. Rumpelstiltskin and the Examination

The next morning found him hating Hopper even more. 

When he woke up, he found his one garment had been removed 'for washing,' he was told, though Archie's tone indicated a far more final fate for bit of fabric. Embarrassed, he kept the blanket of his new bedding wrapped around his hips as he sipped his milk and demolished the bread in record time. 

The golden skin on his torso and arms raised in goosebumps as the man unlocked the cage door with a sort of slow formality. Not waiting for him to get up and hobble/flit towards the opening, he reached in, grabbing him round the waist and drawing him out. Rumpelstiltskin's wings fluttered in brief panic, making him wince as they then snagged on the edge of the door before slapping free. He curled onto one hip, hating his nakedness as he was deposited on the desk once more.

Archie sat about gathering up materials - a pad of thick brown paper, several graphite sticks and a long, thin tape measure. 

"I need you to lay on the paper, on your back, and I'm going to take some measurements and make some sketches, all right?"

He stared up at him uneasily, unnerved by the utterly calm expression on his face. Behind his glasses, Archie studied him, mouth set in a severe line, face impassive. 

"Now, Rumpelstiltskin," He prodded, a tad sharply. 

Slowly, unable to do more at this point, he crawled across the wooden desk towards the papers, hating the way his wings fluttered and spasmed like things possessed. Carefully, he turned to sit down, managing to part the wings to either side, folding them down against his back. He gasped in surprise when Archie reached out, pressing against his chest with two fingers, easily knocking him onto his back. 

With a doctor's precision, he then spread the wings, lifting each and sliding it until it had unfurled to its greatest length. Once he was satisfied with the positioning, he held the limb in place with two fingers, producing a small hoop of wire with the other hand. Each wing received a small hoop on the tips, pinning them in place against the paper without puncturing. 

The entire time, Rumpelstiltskin lay very still, trying not to move, eyes clenched tightly shut at the unfamiliar sensation of having his wings touched. It felt distressingly intimate somehow - the thinnest of skin, and the heat transference from the larger man's body made it even more uncomfortable. It did not hurt - in fact, nearly the opposite, which was only more upsetting. 

"It'll be easier if I do the rest of your limbs the same way," Archie remarked absently, almost as though he were talking to himself, and the fairy squeaked in undignified surprise as his wrist was caught hold of. Pulling it out to the side at an angle, he pinned the thin limb in place with another metal hoop. It did not cut into his skin as he tugged on it, but he flattened against the table when Archie swatted at him with two fingers. "Stop that," He snapped, before catching his other wrist and repeating the process.

Soon, he lay spread beneath him, every limb and appendage pinned tightly into place, rendering him immobile, except for his head. He tossed his hair out of his eyes, trying not to tremble, as the man examined him closely. Archie continued to frown down at him, as though something about him annoyed him, but he finally nodded to himself and picked up a stylus. 

Rumpelstiltskin shut his eyes, curling back into himself as the graphite began following the contours of his body, tracing his outline onto the paper. It felt invasive, felt strange, making him shiver and twist in his bonds to the best of his ability. Archie ignored him and continued the sketch. 

~*~

It seemed to take hours to get the information the doctor required. Rumpelstiltskin tried to remain as passive as possible, but the shiver of the stylus against his goosepimpled flesh, followed by the sting of hot breath as Archie leaned in distressingly close. The hoops holding his ankles were removed, allowing him to relax his lower body briefly.

Then, however, he yelped in shock, jerking hard against his bonds, when the tip of one finger trailed up his inner thigh. "Wha... What are you...?!"

"Shhh," Archie snapped, two fingers swatting at his abdomen again. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The entire transformation had been humiliating and degrading, but none more upsetting and seemingly pointless than this. Archie set the stylus aside, using his thumb and forefinger of each hand to push apart the fairy's legs. "Our working theory is that, magically speaking, all fairies are women, and so, the transformation had some... unforeseen side effects." 

He turned his head to the side, unable to bring himself to meet the man's gaze. He could feel his cheeks burning with humiliation as the fingers crept higher. Rumpelstiltskin tried not to move as the pad of a thumb brushed against the new opening between his legs.

"It does appear to be almost identical to a woman's... uh..." Archie fumbled his words as he pressed a bit harder than he'd intended, sinking just the tip of his digit into the soft folds. The little body pinned beneath him siezed up violently in response, nearly pulling free of the restraints keeping him flat on the desk. 

He brought one hand down, firmly cupping Rumpelstiltskin's waist, keeping him pinned. Carefully, slowly, he continued applying pressure to his experimental touch, pushing deeper still. 

"No, don't..." He sobbed desperately, squirming and writhing against him, kicking his legs uselessly. It didn't hurt - not precisely, but the pressure felt alien and uncomfortable, leaving him feeling scraped and raw. 

Archie shushed him again, and continued until his finger bottomed out at the knuckle. Finally, he withdrew his finger, only to replace it with one of his measuring sticks a few seconds later. Rumpelstiltskin screamed then, unable to stop himself as the cold metal twisted into him, more slender than Archie's finger, but going even deeper still. It bumped hard against something deep inside him, making him cry out again in obvious pain this time. Archie stopped, holding him harder to force him to lay still, before finally withdrawing the stick.

"Four inches," He commented almost abstractly, as though his captive's distress had barely registered. 

"Please, please..." He sobbed out, choking on the air in his lungs, "I want to go back in the cage now, please... Please put me back."

Archie finally seemed to see him then, looking down with a sheepish expression. He seemed to have realized he had pushed the small creature too far this time, and he only then released his grip on his waist. "...Oh. I'm sorry. Yeah... This has been... this has been a lot. Why don't you rest now? I think we've got enough for today."

Rumpelstiltskin curled into his blankets in a shivering mess, burying his face in his pillow and his lacey hair when he was finally placed back inside the golden cage. He wrapped his wings around himself, one hand between his legs, touching the swollen, tender opening lightly, and tried not to think about what 'enough for today' really meant.

~*~

Archie ignored him for several days. He fed him and changed his water, but he never made any effort to speak to or touch him. The small cloth tunic never reappeared, but Rumpelstiltskin remained buried in his nest of blankets at all times and never managed to mind much. 

Finally, another fancy basket arrived, containing a series of small outfits - all rich, soft fabrics in the same colour pallet as his bedding. They were all dresses, much to his dismay.

He sat on the desk, digging through the container, laying each gown out to study it. Archie sat across the room, supposedly writing in his patient journal, but really just watching him with undisguised interest. 

"She and I talked about your... situation, and we decided a gown style would be best. It makes it easier to leave it open for your wings and that way you can get it on and off if you need to without any help. From what I can gather, the shape is more aerodynamic once you learn to fly, as well." 

It was the first time he'd addressed him since the disastrous measurement session and Rumpelstiltskin looked up in surprise. It was actually probably the most Archie had said to him, period, since this had all begun. 

"...Sensible process," He concluded, unable to keep a bit of sourness out of his voice. Flicking his wings, a motion that was becoming easier and more instinctual, he pushed himself to his feet. He'd found that twitching and beating the wings helped to keep his balance as he listed to the left, keeping his weight off his bad leg. Selecting a rich, dark purple gown, he held it up to his chest in contemplation. After a moment of hesitation, he managed to gain a few inches of altitude, allowing him to step into the dress. It tugged up around his wings, giving enough allowance for them to remain in their preferred position, and the sleeves pulled up over his arms easily enough. On either side of the neckline, a long ribbon gave him something to tie behind his neck, helping the garment stay up. The skirt wasn't so bad, he decided. Almost like a dressing gown, falling to his knees in soft waves. Once he was hovering with his wings, the shape did seem to billow out some, catching a bit of air like a small parachute. It didn't necessarily make sense to him, but it appeared to be a small quirk of the magic shimmering around his wings. 

When he glanced over his shoulder, he was surprised to find Archie had moved quite close to the desk, watching him with a closed expression. He startled, losing his rhythm, landing hard on the desktop on his hands and knees. 

Fingers combed lightly over his hair, making him shiver at the sensation. 

"It looks nice," Archie said softly. "You look very nice."

He hesitated before turning to look at him again, suddenly unsure what he was going to find. After a long moment, he met the redhead's gaze apprehensively. 

"May I write my letter now?" He asked softly, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice.

Another long moment passed before Archie nodded, almost too quickly. "Yes, yeah. Of course. I'll get some paper and a pen." 

It didn't occur to him until after Archie had returned with the implements that perhaps he should have tried to escape when he'd been left unattended. Tabling those thoughts, he turned his attentions to bracing the pen against his shoulder as he knelt on the parchment. His handwriting in this form was atrocious, but he did his best to convey his gratitude to the princess. It was comforting to have a barrier between his skin and Archie's overly intensive gaze. 

~*~


	3. Rumpelstiltskin and the Betrayal

The fragile sort of peace they forged was not destined to last.

Every night, Archie drank. 

Whether this was a recent development or something that had always plagued the good doctor in their quaint little town, Rumpelstiltskin did not know. What he did know was that, each night, when Archie brought him his dinner, his stare lingered too long, growing darker with each swig of the flask or draining of a glass. 

He avoided him as though he had a plague during the day, but at night, he seemed enthralled by his prisoner's wings and legs and hands. 

One evening, he heard the door open downstairs, far earlier than usual. It took hours for Archie to appear at the top of the stairs and, when he did, it was not hard to see why. The man wavered on his feet, barely able to stand as he staggered through the doorway. After wrestling with his vest and shirt for a few minutes, he managed to strip down to his undershirt, flinging the other garments across the room. 

This seemed to take a great deal out of him and he leaned against the mantle for a moment, forehead pressed against the wooden beam as he tried to collect himself. Eventually, he straightened and reached for the bottle on the side table.

"...Don't..." Rumpelstiltskin called plaintively. 

He clutched at the bars of his cage, shifting his weight as his wings flittered skittishly. "You've had a lot already, haven't you?" He continued, voice quavering when Archie fixed him with a stare so dark it seemed completely alien. 

"Rumpel..." Archie fumbled over his name a few times, unable to wrap his dragging lips around the syllables. Finally, he settled on a slurred approximation as he crossed the space to the cage. "...Rummy..."

Rumpelstiltskin stumbled backwards to the far wall, panic making his wings flare as Archie caught him by the waist. He struggled as he was yanked free of the small door. With no semblance of gentleness, the drunken man ignored his attempts to extract himself. He carried them quickly and off-balance across the room, stumbling and falling across the bed when his knees banged the side. 

Wings slapping across the bedspread, Rumpelstiltskin tried to pull himself to his knees, but he was easily pushed back down onto his back. 

He stared up at the man looming over him, eyes wide and wet with fear. Archie was huge compared to him now, and he held his hands up to his chest in a defensive, cringing gesture. Archie stared down at him with an expression that seemed to war between anger and awe. Finally, the redhead reached out to trace his fingertips along that pointed, golden jaw, trailing down the long throat. Rumpelstiltskin swallowed hard and tensed under his touch. 

But just as suddenly as he'd snatched him from his birdcage, Archie bowed over him then, burying his face in his stomach. Rumpelstiltskin jumped, but he stopped when he realized the man over him was sobbing. Awkwardly, he reached out to pat at the curls he could reach. Archie clutched him round the waist as though he were a child's comforting toy as he cried. 

~*~

In the hours that followed Archie's excruciating breakdown, the man had rolled to the side, clutching the small fairy close to his chest, and fallen into a heavy sleep. Rumpelstiltskin lay in his arms, unmoving, still wide-awake and completely frazzled. 

Finally, Archie turned, shifting in his sleep, and his arm flopped loose on the bedspread. The shift in pressure across his abdomen triggered a growling sensation in his stomach and he realized that he hadn't been brought any dinner again. 

Glancing back over his shoulder, he checked the man's slack mouth and steady breathing, before shimmying lightly away from him, towards the side of the bed. He had never been left outside of his cage at night, and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss. With any luck, he would be able to creep downstairs and find some bread and be back again before Archie finished sleeping off the amount of liquor he'd obviously consumed. 

His wings beat the air as he slipped off the edge of the bed. It felt good to stretch them to their fullest extent. The moonlight in the window made him feel heady and stronger, and he realized that the rumors he'd always heard about faeries living off the sun and the moon to be strangely correct. He wondered how much he suffered for being locked in a shady room all day and night, even with the milk and bread. 

At this, his stomach growled again, louder this time, and he dropped rapidly in height as he clapped an arm around his own waist. It took too much effort to coordinate all six of his limbs now. He heard the creak of the floorboards and paused a moment, realizing that he wasn't touching the ground and so couldn't be responsible for it.

Rumpelstiltskin screamed when a hand suddenly shot out from behind, grabbing him hard around the middle in a bruising grip.

~*~

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Archie snarled, flinging him down onto the bed so hard that he bounced up briefly, wings shuddering raggedly. He sounded like another person, voice thick and dark and utterly hateful. "Trying to run away, huh?"

"No - no, I wasn't!" He cried, raising an arm to ward off the hands that descended. Archie slapped his wrists away, turning him and dragging him by the leg until he was flat on his back. "I was only..." He broke off with a stunned cry as the man struck him soundly across the face. 

Leaning close, Archie's fingers scraped across his throat and back into his hair. "I trusted you not to run away, and look what you've done," He hissed. His voice fragmented then, sounding almost confused. "You don't... You don't even realize... What it is you've done..."

Abruptly, he caught his legs in a rough grip, flipping him over to press him face down into the bedspread. Rumpelstiltskin tried to catch his breath enough to protest, but he was choked and smothered by the thick cloth. He cried out when pressure met his wings at their base, heavy and pinched, only to be abruptly relieved when the sound of ripping cloth filled his ears. Archie tore the dress apart by the seam, shredding the thin fabric and laying him bare. 

He froze when something hot and heavy slapped out suddenly, slamming into the small of his back, parting his wings. Rumpelstiltskin clutched at the bedspread, unable to move, unable to process exactly what was happening. Archie wasted no time, however, in taking both of his wings in each hand, pulling them up and back. He cried out then, sobbing in shock as he felt the man behind him slide the thick weight of what could only be his shaft into the narrow valley between the webbing of his wings. 

Archie moaned, digging his knees down to angle his hips. He continued to rub against the small creature he held, reveling in the sensation of his most sensitive skin against the velvety softness of those wings. "Yes..." He gasped out, hunching down to curl over him, trembling in excitement and the realization of something he had wanted for so long. "Gods, yes, this... this is... Oh, Rummy..."

Suddenly, everything made a sick, horrifying kind of sense - the long, steady looks Archie gave him, the hungry bent to his expressions when he watched the fairy move. He'd thought it fascination, thought it resentment, perhaps even loathing, but never, never this. 

There was not enough air in the space between Archie's body and the bedspread, and he felt lightheaded and detached for it. Above him, the man continued his thrusts, bearing down harder each time, gripping his wings so tightly it felt as though they were being punctured by the nails biting into them. Rumpelstiltskin sobbed, the sound keening into a crackling shriek when Archie dropped down across his back, rutting his hips forward one last time in a brutal shove that dug hard into his spine and neck. White-hot pain tore across his senses before shock shorted it out, and he felt the snap almost abstractly as his right wing collapsed abruptly under the weight of the man's torso. 

A numbness settled over him as he became aware of the heavy, sticky wetness inking up from his back and into his thick curls. Archie's heavy breathing seemed to be everywhere, above him, below him, and even inside him. He could feel his wing pulsing in a thrumming, feverish staccato in time with his heartbeat. Allowing it to lull him into a sense of quiet introspectiveness, he closed his eyes and willed himself to feel nothing, to see nothing, to hear nothing. The ragged, shallow breaths he managed proved insufficient, and he soon got his wish for nothingness.

~*~


	4. Rumpelstiltskin and the Lies

He dreamt of the war. Drums beating out signals and codes in their steady, building rhythms. The screams of men and animals, the flash of heat and fire as the world dwindled down to muffled sounds and spotty dark. He dreamt of the wound, the one that freed him from that hell, only to sentence him to a fate far crueler and more permanent. He could feel the blood, hot and slippery down his skin, pooling around him in the parody of an embrace. 

But something wasn't right here - it hurt, that same, sharp stab of pain with each moment, cresting and falling, only to do the same again and again. But the location felt wrong. He clapped one hand against his shoulder, curling forward into a ball with a scream at the explosion of agony this caused. 

"Shh! Rumpelstiltskin! Shhh! Please!" 

He opened his eyes as water filled his mouth, literally drowning out his cries. Jerking his hips forward, he kicked blindly for a surface to touch against, finding it briefly, only to slip and fall face-first into the water again. A hand on his waist steadied him, lifting him and pushing him so he could grip the side of the basin and anchor himself. 

He realized he was huddled against the side of the bucket that served as Archie's bathroom sink, up to his chest in lukewarm water. As his situation clarified, the pain in his right wing increased ten-fold, leaving him weak-kneed and trembling. He didn't dare turn to face the man looming over him. He didn't know how to bear it. 

"...I washed your hair," Archie's voice sounded weak and timid, more like the man he'd been in Storybrooke than Rumpelstiltskin had heard in weeks. 

"...I think my wing is broken," He replied softly, trying not to cringe. Silence stretched, and finally, unable to stand it any further, he shifted his weight carefully to peer up at the redhead through the thick, wet clumps of hair covering his face.

He hissed, curling down into himself, sinking up to his nose in the water as two of Archie's fingers traced the fractured curve of bone. The pressure increase from the water made the throb hurt less, but the wound stung more as it lapped into the ripped skin.

Archie swore, and he froze. The tone sounded too dark, too harsh, too much like the man who had pinned him down to the bed, paralyzing him there, up to his nose in the cool water. He stayed there, unmoving, as Archie left the room. A series of sounds, abstract and frightening, forced him to lower his head more, allowing the water to muffle out the impacts of a fist hitting wood as Archie's voice crested into a keening wail. 

The thrumming of his own heartbeat reverberating in the water did not make him feel much better, and he screamed, swallowing more water despite himself, as he was abruptly caught round the waist again. The scream splintered, his throat tightening in agony as his wings tried vainly to beat air, making the wounded appendage shudder and crumple. 

He landed on all fours on the bedspread, unable to support his weight as his limbs trembled. Behind him, Archie loomed, too close, too familiar, too soon. "...Please..." He sobbed out, curling a wet wing down to cover himself, the other flapping awkwardly to the side like a sail lashed to a broken mast. 

"You've had an accident," Archie said softly, voice hoarse. "You had an accident trying to fly and fell. That's all. It was an accident."

Rumpelstiltskin shifted then, peeking up at him from where he cowered on the bedspread. It still smelled heavily of the musk of nocturnal transgressions, making his stomach swim along with his head. "...I..." His voice broke unexpectedly, and he flattened himself in apprehension as Archie knelt down to put their faces level. 

He thought suddenly of his leg, still twisted and withered, unable to support his weight once again, realizing the seriousness of the damage done to his wing. Without both wings, he would never be able to fly, rendering him twice as helpless, twice as trapped. He needed medical attention before it could come to that, if it hadn't already. Screwing his face into something he hoped looked as pitiful as he felt, he twisted towards Archie then, pleading, "Please... Please, don't let it stay this way. Please help me."

"I'm going to get you help," Archie said softly, expression filled with guilt and pity. It was almost easy to believe he'd had nothing to do with this whole mess - that he wasn't the single, horrifying cause. "But you have to tell them it was an accident. I can't get you help if you don't tell them that." 

His tone made it sound completely reasonable - lie and get treatment for the break. The two seemed completely discordant in the fairy's mind, and he clutched at the blanket beneath him trying to think of a way to question this that wouldn't leave the other man angry. "But I..."

Fingers brushed his chin then, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet that stern gaze. The pity seemed to flake away, and he could see the hard set of his jaw, the way his temples locked in a stony expression. Archie's breath felt hot on his cheek and he realized how naked he was, spread across the bed, with water clinging and dripping from his every angle. 

"An accident, Rummy," Archie said firmly, dropping his name down to the diminutive he'd finally managed to choke out the night before. 

Terrified, fully getting the message, the fairy nodded fervently, flinching as his wing twitched in response. "Y...Yes. An accident. I'm sorry. Please..."

The man continued to study him for a long moment, and then he released him. Rolling back onto his heels and to his feet, Archie turned and hurried to the desk. After jotting a short message onto a scrap of parchment, he paused at the top of the stairs, looking back to the pathetic creature huddled on his bed. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

Sinking down to his stomach, he curled into himself as much as the pain would allow, resigning himself to trusting his abuser and an agonizing wait.

~*~

He heard her well before he saw her - a tinkling, chiming that sounded discordant and hair-raising to one side of him, soothing and melodic to the other. He'd hoped that he'd never have to see her again, but he supposed it was inevitable, one way or another. 

She hovered into view now, followed slowly by Archie, both of them grim-faced. When she took in his admittedly sorry state, her face shifted into that false smile, simpering and oily, and he hated her more for it. "Oh, Rumpelstiltskin... What's become of you, child?"

As though she had the right, as though she had the power over him to speak to him with such condescension! His anger flared, undercutting even the constant throb of the wound, but it was gone as soon as it came, leaving him exhausted and hollow. It took too much effort to sustain that kind of active emotion now, and he was already so very tired...

He couldn't even bring himself to move away from her as she landed beside him. Her small hand felt cool on his feverish brow, and he closed his eyes, letting his head drop down to the bedspread. 

The evidence had been removed - the bedding changed and secreted away. Archie had even managed to coax him to half-slither, half-crawl into one of his soft linen nightdresses, pulled up over his hips and arms, left unfastened in the back to give modesty while still retaining access to his wings. The broken wing felt hopelessly swollen now, thin skin feeling as though it would burst, and each beat of his heart felt like another hollow stab of agony, carrying straight down his spine. 

"You were flying?" She said, curving her hand to the back of his head, pressing into his curls to deter him from lifting his head as she gently ran her other palm over the line of bone down to the break. Her voice sounded gentle, but there was a note of something there that made his blood run cold - doubt.

In the doorway, Archie crossed his arms over his chest, pressing his palm to his own mouth. The angle made his eyes invisible behind the shine of his glasses and Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes, biting his lip. 

"...I was trying to float," He murmured finally, and he felt her fingers stiffen before she caught herself and soothed the digits back down. 

"And did you succeed?" She replied quietly, tracing her fingers down the fracture, sending soft hints of numbing, soothing magic in their wake. 

"-No," He replied shortly, some of the tension in his back giving way as the pain drained off slightly. "...I fell. But I'd gone up very high so it was... it was very far to fall."

This answer seemed to satisfy her. "That sort of ability requires fairy magics, Rumpelstiltskin... You aren't meant to have those sorts of things, not yet, not until you've earned them." 

"...I was just trying to learn to do it right," He whispered, feeling tears sting unexpectedly at the corners of his eyes. "I wasn't trying to do anything wrong. I just wanted... to do it right." 

She seemed moved finally by his distress, able to read the genuine sorrow in his voice, though misunderstanding the cause. "It's all right, Rumpelstiltskin. You didn't know." With that, the magic she let slip into him grew in intensity, feeling cold and heavy and he felt as though he were swimming in the basin of water again, thoughts going thick and sluggish. 

Finally, she withdrew her hand, letting her fingers trail across the thin membrane of his wing one last time. He could feel the straightness of it, the bones and flesh properly aligned once more. He sobbed out in relief then, pressing himself further into the bed, unable to stop shaking. Mended - good-as-new. He wouldn't have to be crippled, completely damaged forever. He was safe now. His lies had bought him that, at least. 

She flittered away from him, and he could hear the cadence of her voice, chimes and sympathy, and Archie's soft, dry murmurs, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on the words. With trembling hands, he pushed himself up onto his knees and felt behind himself as much as he was able. Gently, experimentally, he tested the appendage, unfurling the wing and fluttering it, before pulling it back down close to his body. Curling back down on his side, he burrowed up into the pillow, pulling the corner of it over himself like a blanket, hiding beneath the soft fabric, as though he could shield himself from the entire world. 

~*~

He didn't look up when Archie settled on the edge of the bed. The cold silence of the rest of the room told him she had gone finally, and he was suddenly extremely sorry for it. Much as her presence had grated, it had at least meant not being alone with... with Archie. 

"You did very well," the man said softly, the gentleness of his voice maddening considering what exactly he had made the fairy do. 

"...I didn't do it for you," He spat, feeling bitter, feeling angry now that his wing felt strong and whole again. 

The sound of Archie's jaw popping, rolling in his mouth with an audible /crack/ made him flinch as though from a gunshot. He realized he'd said the wrong thing, gone too far, when the two fingers caught him by the chin again.

"I know that," Archie murmured, voice low and tight. He brought their faces close together, which only served to clearly illustrate the differences in sizes between them. "What happened last night..."

Before he can continue, Rumpelstiltskin crumpled inward, making himself small and compact. "I fell!" He said quickly, ducking his head to hide his face as best he could while Archie still held it. "I fell, please..."

For a moment, Archie said nothing, and then he let him go. 

Without the grip holding him up, he flopped back on the bed, but he tried to curl down flat immediately, pressing his wings as close to himself as he could. "You don't have to... I... I fell..." He murmured raggedly, hating the sudden climb in pitch his voice took. 

The tinkling sound made him flinch, and then perk his head up, almost hopefully. It sounded similar to the Blue Fairy, but softer and less... horrible. But instead of a fairy, there was only Archie, holding a long, shimmering golden chain in one hand. 

"She gave me this," He said softly, not looking at the pitiful creature huddled on his bedspread. "She said it'll keep you from falling. As long as it's attached, it will use its magic to... to buffer you. It'll make you safer, make your bones stronger and less brittle."

"...How do I wear it?" He asked, though he sensed he already knew. 

To his relief, Archie did not loop it around his throat. Going to his waist, he made a loose circle, one that he could easily slip his clothes on and off under, but that would not quite go over his hips or shoulders. Then, he twisted the end against the rest of the rope, and, with a shimmering tremble of magic, the pieces joined, leaving him securely roped by the loop. The other end stretched across the room, nearly the entire length of it, and he attached it to the base of the large golden cage in the same manner. 

He couldn't help but tug on it, studying the joining spell used around the closed loop. It hummed faintly under his small fingers, and he found it to be almost electric in sensation, though extremely muted. "This is..." 

"Fairydust," Archie offered, stepping closer, but not coming back down to his level.

"...It's been woven into links..." He had never heard of such a thing, never seen it done before with fairy magic. Elven magic often utilized a similar technique, but their magic sprung from their own blood instead of external factors like faeries. "...Remarkable."

"You can't open it," The man called as he tugged on it again. "The locks won't open for anyone but the person who made them, and it's been enchanted not to respond to you, specifically." 

That hurt more than it should, and he felt his shoulders slump. Then, the thought occurred to him, and he looked up, eyes shining with a brutally painful surge of hope. "Does this mean... I don't have to sleep in the..."

"Sometimes, you still will," Archie interrupted. "Sometimes, if I need you to be up out of the way, or..." He swallowed then, "Or if you misbehave. But this allows me to let you out more easily and more safely. And to keep better track of you now that you're finding your wings."

He tried to keep his expression from souring at the implication of punishment. Instead, he screwed up his determination and set his shoulders, raising himself on his hands to meet Archie's gaze. "...T...Thank you." 

The man looked completely flat-footed at that. His skin flushed to match his hair, and he adjusted his glasses guiltily. "That's just... Look, why don't you just explore in here for a bit? I'll be back in a little while with something nice for you to eat."

His stomach growled hard at the mention of food, but the reminder of how long it had been since he'd eaten reminded him sharply of the previous night and all that had occurred. It was impossible not to cringe for a moment as his wing shuddered in remembered agony. When he looked up, Archie was already fleeing the room. 

~*~


End file.
